Whumptober 2019 - 15 - Scars
by DinerGuy
Summary: 2018 reboot. "You got… you got through that," she whispered again. Her hand shifted upward, and she winced, but then her fingertips lightly brushed his scar. "We can do this." She sounded so determined, even past the pain clouding her voice.


_A/N: I've laughed at the fact __that some of these Whumptober fills are similar, but then I was reading over this one in preparation for posting and realized just how much parts of it feel like parts of yesterday's__ (not the gross bad guy stuff, though, I promise)__. Honestly, it was totally unintentional. Y__ou gotta do what the plot bunnies tell you to do, right? In my defense, I wrote this story early in the process after deciding to do Whumptober and then Tear-Stained came much later._

_I have a feeling none of you will mind though. ;)_

_Standard disclaimers apply._

* * *

When it happened, it was quick—and painful to watch for those seeing the events unfold through the grainy footage of a security camera.

The Ferrari forced off the road. The masked men who jumped from one of the SUVs that blocked the way. The guns waved threateningly at the two in the sports car. And then the prisoners shoved roughly into separate Suburbans before the gunmen followed after them and then sped off.

The whole thing took maybe thirty seconds, and then the empty Ferrari had been all that remained to say Magnum and Higgins had been there at all. Which was how it had been found, doors open and engine running, completely devoid of any evidence as to who'd taken the duo.

HPD was working hard to track down leads, and Rick and T.C. were following up on info of their own, but no one seemed to know who'd taken Magnum and Higgins or where they might be. The search stretched on through the excruciatingly long day, and, when they reached the eight-hour mark without a single shred of tangible evidence as to their friends' whereabouts, everyone was long past worried.

* * *

The rocking of what felt like the entire world as she came to threw her off for a good minute. She hadn't yet brought herself to open her eyes, attempting instead to settle her stomach and the pain in her head. She tried to shift to rub her head, but her hands wouldn't cooperate, and she suddenly realised they were bound behind her. Everything came flooding back in a rush of overwhelming memories as she felt the ropes biting into her wrists.

The car… the SUVs… Magnum!

Her eyes flew open, and she blinked in the light flooding the room. She was alone, though; there was no sign of Magnum—or anyone at all—anywhere. The small room where she was currently lying against the wall seemed to be the cabin of a ship… which would explain the rocking feeling. The door opposite her was shut—probably locked securely too.

She took a deep breath, then tried to push to her feet as best as she could with her hands behind her. But she barely made it to a sitting position before her stomach started churning and her head started spinning so fast that she nearly passed out again.

Her mind summoned the memory of a needle being jabbed into her arm as soon as she'd been shoved into the SUV, and she groaned as she remembered drifting off even as the squeal of tires told her their captors were racing them off to an unknown location.

Lying on the floor, she felt the solid wall against her back, and the rocking of the boat slowly started to lull her to sleep. Her head hurt so much, and her eyes were just so heavy…

She woke with a start as she was hauled up off the floor. Her head spun at the sudden change in altitude, and her stomach threatened to expel its contents, but she clenched her jaw and willed herself to keep control of her faculties. She could feel someone's hands on her arms pulling her upward, and she vaguely felt herself being dragged along as whoever was holding her started moving.

When she tried to open her eyes to see where she was being taken, all she could see was a blur of shadows and shapes, and she shut them again with a small groan.

And then, suddenly, they stopped and she felt the hands moving from her arms as she was dropped back down. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she expected to land in a heap on the floor, but her eyes flew open in surprise when she landed in a metal chair instead.

She couldn't quite find the strength to lift her head, and her downward gaze flickered over the sturdy piece of furniture she'd been dumped into, even as she felt someone tying her hands behind her to the chair. She knew it was futile, but she struggled to free herself anyway—but all she earned for her trouble was a blow to the back of the head that sent her reeling dangerously close to unconsciousness. She slumped forward, her chin resting on her chest.

As if from a distance, she heard movement in front of her, then felt someone pulling at her legs. She didn't even have to open her eyes; the feeling of the rope wrapping around her right ankle and then her left, pulling them tightly against the legs of the chair, told her whoever had her was making very sure she wouldn't get away.

She heard whoever was in front of her step back then, but she still couldn't make herself focus. Whatever she'd been given in the car was still playing havoc with her system; it was making her feel like her head was stuffed with cotton and too heavy to even lift. So she stayed still, head down, and focused on breathing steadily.

There was a creaking sound across the room—the door?—then shuffling and the sound of footsteps along the floor.

"Higgy!"

She heard her name being gasped out, and the familiarity of the voice tickled at her brain. That voice… she knew that voice. But who…?

And then there were the sounds of a scuffle, and then someone grunted in pain just before there was a dull _thump_ across the room. The same voice growled in frustration, then yelled in pain.

The sound tugged at something in the back of her mind, even as a new voice spoke up.

"I'll give you another chance to talk while we wake for your friend to wake up." The man was speaking in a low, threatening voice that made Higgins' stomach clench. "Where is the drive?"

The first voice replied, and it sent Higgins' heart sinking as she finally placed it.

"Look, I told you that you have the wrong people," Magnum said, sounding determined even though Higgins thought she detected a hint of worry. "This is all just a big misunderstanding."

His breathless grunt pulled Higgins' eyes open in the next moment as if of their own accord. She'd been contemplating pretending to be under the effect of the drugs for as long as she could in order to gather more information and possibly keep the situation from escalating, but all that went out the window as she heard her friend gasping painfully for air.

"Oh good. You're awake."

Higgins knew she should probably be more concerned about the voice purring at her, but she was solely focused on Magnum.

He was sitting across the room from her, just a few metres, if that—she could now see they were in a small room belowdecks—tied to a metal chair in the same way she was. There was a man standing behind the chair, arms crossed, staring at the two prisoners as if watching to make sure they didn't try to escape.

Higgins' gaze flickered back to where Magnum was slowly straightening from where he'd been hunched over. He was breathing heavily as his eyes met hers.

The corner of his mouth tucked up in a small smile as he looked her in the eye, and she felt the panic that was starting to bubble up inside of her settle somewhat as she took a deep breath. She could tell from the way his face was bruised and bloodied that he'd already been through more than she had, but he was still trying to encourage her—and it was working.

But then another figure stepped between them, and Higgins blinked as her gaze focused on the man. He was far from imposing, but something about his bearing made her stomach clench. She'd met men like him before; what they lacked in physical intimidation, they made up for with cruelty, and the look on his face told her he was exactly that type of person.

"My boss is very interested in retaining that drive," the man said, looking between the two prisoners. "You can either tell me its location now, or you can tell me its location after a little… motivation." The smile lurking in his eyes told Higgins all she needed to know about what he meant.

"I already told you, you have the wrong people," Magnum growled in response.

Their captor turned to Higgins and raised an eyebrow at her. "See, my boss doesn't like it when he hires people to do a job and they steal from him. But he's a forgiving man, and he's willing to let you live if you just return the drive with the information on it. No harm, no foul."

Higgins swallowed. Magnum was right. This guy did have the wrong people, but it was obvious he didn't believe them. She shook her head. "We're really not who you think we are," she tried. "I work as a majordomo of an estate on the island, and he—"

"I didn't ask who you are; I asked where the drive is!" the man snapped. He whirled back to Magnum. "Now, tell me where it is. _Now. _Or else things are going to start getting messy."

Glancing across at Magnum, Higgins tried to give him an encouraging look. They could deal with this psycho for a little while. Someone had surely noticed them missing by now, so they just had to hold out long enough for their friends to find them.

The man glanced from her to Magnum. "Pity," he said simply. "Guess you do want to do things the hard way." He nodded to someone behind Higgins.

Across the room, she saw Magnum's eyes widen, and then there was a blur as something dropped over her face and obscured her vision.

* * *

As soon as the man standing behind Higgins lifted the plastic bag, Magnum felt like he'd been punched in the stomach again. He knew exactly what was about to happen, but he couldn't do a thing to stop it.

Higgins looked back to him a fraction of a second before the bag was yanked over her face and pulled tightly around her neck.

Her whole body stiffened as she processed what was happening, then she instinctively jerked against the bonds holding her to the chair, even though it was of no use. Magnum could see her trying to struggle, see her shoulders jerking as she tugged against the ropes holding her arms around the back of the chair, see her legs moving as she yanked against the restraints binding her ankles to the legs of the chair.

"Higgins!" He felt like he was going to be sick.

She desperately shook her head as if she could free herself, although the man's firm grip held the edge of the bag against her throat, giving no room for air to get past it. When she pulled against him again, the man snaked an arm around her neck.

In response, Higgins' back arched away from the chair at a severe, painful angle, coming up off of the seat as her body strived to free itself and reach fresh air once again. It was as if she were running solely on instinct at this point, and she once again yanked against her restraints and tried to pull away from the man holding her.

"Higgy!"

Magnum didn't want to watch; it was too painful to see her struggling like that, to know she was running out of air and that he couldn't do anything to help her. He twisted his wrists and jerked against the ropes holding his own arms and legs to his chair. He felt the ropes biting into his wrists, felt them tearing at his skin and knew he was making himself bleed, but he was desperate to get to Higgins. If he could only get free… but he couldn't. Couldn't leap up, couldn't tackle the man holding the bag over Higgy's head… Magnum clenched his jaw in furious frustration as he yanked at his arms so hard that his shoulders felt like they were going to give at the strain.

The man who had been questioning him, the one who had given the other man the okay, turned from watching Higgins' struggles to look at Magnum. "You can make it stop, you know. Just tell me where the drive is, and I'll tell him to take the bag off."

"But I told you, we don't _have _it!" Magnum exclaimed, knowing he sounded desperate and not even caring. His gaze darted back to where Higgins had now slumped in her seat, her back dropping down to rest against the chair because she didn't have the air to keep her muscles tense any longer.

Her head was still shaking, but now it was much slower and less frantic. He could see her chest heaving—no, not heaving. It was twitching, as if her lungs were still fighting for air but didn't have any strength left.

Magnum turned furious eyes onto his interrogator. "I would tell you if I did, I swear! Just let her go! You can't kill her over something she doesn't know!"

The man tilted his head and studied Magnum, then he slowly turned back to where his lackey was holding Higgins. She was barely fighting at this point, and Magnum swallowed dryly. She couldn't go much longer without air…

And then the man waved his hand, and Magnum sagged in relief as the bag was yanked off of Higgins' head.

She drooped in her seat, arms pulling at her bonds as she fell forward. Strands of blonde hair were plastered to her forehead and cheeks, matted with sweat that soaked her face. Her eyes were closed, her face pale, and her chest began heaving as the fresh air suddenly hit her lungs.

Higgins coughed, slowly at first, then more quickly. But her oxygen-starved lungs were still trying to take in as much air as they could, even while she was still coughing, and she was soon wheezing and struggling to get a breath in past the harsh, ragged cough that sounded as if it was being torn from her throat.

As her coughing finally started to die down, the man in the middle of the room stalked across the short space to Higgins' chair. "Tell me what you did with the drive," the man said again, his voice low and threatening.

She was wheezing, but she still managed to glare at him defiantly.

He shook his head. "Wow, you two really don't know when you're beaten, do you? Maybe we can convince _you _to talk then, since your friend won't."

Magnum took a deep breath at the man's words. He half-expected a bag to close over his own head, but then his back arched as fire filled his veins.

Light danced across his vision, and a roaring sound filled his ears. He might have been yelling; he couldn't tell.

He could feel himself tensing up, feel his wrists and ankles pulling at the ropes holding them, but it was all as if from a distance.

The moment stretched on and on, and then the pressure against his lower back suddenly vanished. He felt himself slumping in the chair, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. It still felt like there was something dancing through his muscles, and the sound in his ears slowly started to fade, leaving a ringing behind.

He forced himself to glance up toward Higgy, and he thought he could just make out the horrified expression in her eyes—but then something pressed against his side and the fire returned as the room disappeared in a burst of white.

* * *

T.C. wanted to punch something. He clenched his fists as he dropped into one of the chairs next to Katsumoto's desk. He and Rick had been talking to everyone they could think of who might know something about the kidnapping, but they'd continued to run into brick wall after brick wall.

There was a rumor going around Honolulu's seedier element that someone was on the hunt for a "drive," but no one seemed to know exactly what it was or who wanted it, just that some hired guns were asking questions and tossing around threats.

Their paths had actually crossed with Katsumoto's on their last stop, where apparently one of HPD's leads had brought the detective to the same back alley bar as information Rick and T.C. had found. Their person of interest had drunkenly taken a swing at Katsumoto when he'd realized the man was a cop, which was how Rick and T.C. were now back at the police station, where they'd been allowed to listen as the drunk was questioned.

Unfortunately, the guy hadn't been able to give them much. He'd said something about "some scary guy" hiring some muscle the night before for a snatch-and-grab, but he'd been too many rounds in for the man to want to hire him—"but that's all I know, dude, for reals."

T.C. swallowed, then looked over as a hand rested on his shoulder.

Beside him, Rick gave him a tight smile. "We're gonna find them, man," his friend said, squaring his chin. "They're out there, and we're gonna find them."

T.C. sighed. "It's just… this is too much like Nuzo, you know? We don't know who's got 'em or what they want." He glanced away and focused on the far wall, unable to look back at his friend with the emotions he knew were dancing in his eyes.

"Hey, remember when those goons yacht-jacked Thomas and Higgy?" Rick's voice pulled T.C.'s attention back to him. "What happened? We found them. It took a little time, but we _found_ them. And we're gonna find them again. Okay?"

Nodding, T.C. took a deep breath, but his reply was interrupted by Katsumoto's return.

The detective was walking with a quick, purposeful stride, and he dropped a manila folder on his desk. "We might have something."

T.C. was immediately on his feet. "What?" he asked, barely noticing Rick having jumped up to stand next to him. "Tell me you found Thomas and Higgy."

"We have a lead," the detective replied carefully. "A dock worker saw the five o'clock news and called in a tip; around ten this morning, he saw several people boarding a boat at a slip that's usually abandoned. Apparently two of the group were being carried on board by the others."

When he spoke, Rick's voice was clipped. "Why didn't he report it sooner?"

"He says there are tourists down there all the time partying, and he just assumed they'd had too much to drink." Katsumoto rolled his eyes. "I know. But, after the report, he realized it could have been Magnum and Higgins, so he called it in."

The detective paused, and Rick and T.C. exchanged glances as he continued.

"We're working to track the boat now. Problem is"—he sighed—"our guy doesn't remember the exact name, so we're running all the possible options based on what he could tell us. Once we know the boat, we can use the AIS to locate it." He flipped the folder open and glanced over the list of names. "Trust me; as soon as we can identify this boat, we're going after it." As he finished speaking, his phone vibrated, and he glanced at the screen. "I have to take this."

As the detective walked away from the desk, phone pressed to his ear, Rick and T.C.'s attention was fully focused on the folder left open on the desk. The friends exchanged a glance, then Rick leaned forward and snapped a photo of the document.

He tapped the screen to attach the image to a text, then pressed the phone to his ear. "Hey, it's Rick. I need a favor."

* * *

If he were being honest, Magnum had long since lost track of time. Everything blended together in one long repetition of pain and questions and more pain—and having to watch and listen as Higgy was put through the same things.

Their interrogator was determined to learn the location of whatever drive it was he wanted, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. It didn't matter that Magnum and Higgins had no idea what he was talking about or who his boss was—although Magnum was now determined to track the man down the minute they were free—the questions just kept coming and the pain just kept following.

Between the electricity, the plastic bags, and the goons' fists, there was no lack of consequences for not answering the questions satisfactorily, and the men weren't shy about dividing their attention equally between their prisoners. The worst part wasn't when the interrogator was demanding Magnum tell them about the drive and where he'd hidden it or who he'd sold it to. The worst was having to watch as every single failure to reply on Magnum's part was rewarded by Higgy being tortured.

She'd tried to stay strong, of course, but that didn't mean he didn't feel every single cry of pain or gasping breath that was wrenched from her. And he could have handled the pain when it was doled out to him if it weren't for the way he saw Higgins' face tighten in agony when her silence or attempts to answer the questions were taken out on him. Yeah, sure, it hurt like nothing he'd felt in years, but he could have put up with it if the men had decided to take out _his _lack of cooperation on him. But the look on Higgins' face when she was forced to watch him suffer was harder than anything they could have done to him.

It had been even worse when, moments before, one of the goons had produced a hunting knife that had been twirled meaningfully in front of Magnum's line of sight.

"Do you really want to see how far I'm willing to go?" the interrogator had threatened coldly.

Magnum's pleas for the man to do whatever he wanted to him but to leave Higgins out of it had fallen on deaf ears, and he'd had to endure seeing the way her face had crinkled up as the blade had been drawn tauntingly along her cheek, just lightly enough not to break the skin, dropping to flit across her neck under her jawline, then down over her collarbone and toward her stomach.

"Last chance, hero." The man in front of Magnum had stepped aside to give the prisoner a full view of what was happening, as he had to both Magnum and Higgins repeatedly throughout the course of the day.

Magnum had searched frantically for any shred of an idea of what to say, but he came up empty. He'd already tried everything he could think of to stop the madness, but none of it had worked. Every time, he'd only been rewarded with a front-seat view to his failures and his few desperate attempts at lying being taken out on Higgy, and the most recent occurence hadn't been any different.

And now he was seething, yanking on his bonds as if he could somehow snap them free out of pure anger, ignoring the pain shooting through his wrists and up his forearms. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to erase Higgy's gut-wrenching sob of pain from his memory or forget how the knife had glinted as it had been pulled from where it had sunk through her shirt. The image of her expression, full of terror and breathless agony, was seared into his mind, as was the way her chest had hitched as the blood had slowly started soaking the lower part of her shirt.

"She's going to bleed out eventually if she doesn't get help soon," came the low, threatening voice again. Then, even as Magnum tugged again against the ropes, their interrogator just strolled over to him and looked him directly in the eyes. "I am losing my patience," he snarled. "You are going to tell me what I want to know, one way or another, and you're going to tell me _now."_

Magnum just shook his head, unable to even respond past the dry, sandpaper-like feeling in his throat.

"It's your choice what happens next. I'd advise you make it a good one.." He gestured to the man behind Magnum. "I have to report back to the boss on my… progress. Bring him to the deck, and we'll try something new." He turned back to Magnum and raised an eyebrow. "Just remember; if you refuse, she dies. She probably only has an hour or so left, hm?" And then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Footsteps sounded behind Magnum as the goon stepped forward, and then someone hit him in the side of the head roughly enough to send him tipping toward darkness. He vaguely felt hands on his arms and then shifting by his feet as his head continued to spin. Visions of Higgins danced through his memory, and the echoes of her heart-wrenching cries of pain and the way the knife had done its damage shoved their way to the front of his mind.

The fury they prompted pulled him back to reality with a choked gasp, and he realized he was no longer tied to the chair. Instead, he was suspended between the two goons, his bruised and strained shoulders being pulled painfully backward as he was hauled toward the door.

Magnum blinked even as the room continued to spin around him. He was being taken… away from Higgins… Higgins!

Swallowing, Magnum willed himself to focus, even as the men continued to drag him forward. He had to make a move. It was now or never.

Looking back, he wasn't even sure how he managed it. He'd chalk it up to pure adrenaline whenever anyone asked him about it. Honestly, that was the only explanation he could come up with for how he'd managed to lunge to his feet, to smash his fist into first one man's face and then the other. He barely noticed when one pulled the knife on him and slashed at him, catching his arm before Magnum was able to grab the man's hands. There was a scuffle, that much he knew, and then both men had been on the floor, unmoving, and Magnum had found himself breathing heavily, swaying on his feet, and clenching his fist around the knife.

He stumbled across the room, nearly tripping over his feet as he moved so fast, desperate to reach Higgy.

She was sagging in the chair, her arms still held taut, and he could see the blood that had by now soaked her shirt and was dripping down to hit the floor under her chair.

"Higgins? Higgy!"

Her eyes barely flickered.

Magnum quickly sliced through the restraints around her ankles and then leaned over her to free her wrists, making sure to keep one hand on her shoulder so she wouldn't fall the minute he removed the ropes.

"C'mon, Higgy, c'mon. Stay with me," he coaxed, gently shifting her weight so he could lower her to the floor. Her face was so pale, and there was so much blood… He set the knife to the side and frantically lifted the hem of her ruined shirt to check the extent of the damage.

Magnum clenched his jaw as he saw the way the sharp blade had pierced her skin, the way blood was steadily streaming out of the wound. He had to stop the bleeding, he realized. That was her only hope of making it out of this alive. It wouldn't matter how soon the others arrived if he couldn't get the bleeding under control soon.

"Higgy, hey, open your eyes for me. Come on!" he continued to coax her as he hurriedly pulled off his t-shirt. It was stained and torn, but it was better than nothing. He wadded up the cloth and pressed it to her stomach.

Higgins' eyes flew open at the sudden pressure, and she gasped in pain.

Relief at seeing her gaze again washed through him. "Hey, hey, there you are. It's okay; just breathe. Breathe. There you go."

She blinked up at him, clearly searching for the memory of how she'd gotten where she was. He could see as it all came back to her, and the way the tears welled up in her eyes twisted at his chest.

"M… Magnum?" she whispered. "What…?"

"Shh, it's okay. Those guys won't hurt you any more," he reassured her. And it was true. The two goons were out of commission, and it didn't matter if the interrogator came back. There was no way Magnum was letting him near Higgins again.

He glanced back down to where his shirt was wadded up against her side and winced at the sheer amount of blood that had already soaked the fabric. It would have been worrying under any circumstances, but Higgy was already weak from what they'd endured. Magnum wasn't a medical expert, but there was no way she'd gone through what she had already and now stand to lose so much blood.

A small, sharp gasp drew his attention back to her face, and he frowned as he saw her eyes flickering from his face down to his chest. She must be starting to fade again, and he swallowed. "Hey, Higgy, stay with me, okay? We're gonna get you out of here. You just have to hold on a little longer." He honestly didn't know how he was going to actually get her out of there, but what else was there to say?

He risked shifting the shirt to press one of the drier spots against her stomach, and, when he looked back to her face, he could see her gaze had drifted away from his again. He glanced down to follow her eyes and realized she wasn't just staring absently into the distance. Her eyes were fixed firmly on his stomach. Or, to be more specific, on the jagged scar that stood out against his skin.

"Higgy?" he asked gently. "Hey, my eyes are up here," he joked.

She sniffed something of a laugh, then coughed as it caught in her throat. A determined look mixed with the pain in her expression. A second later, she spoke—but so quietly he had to lean in to hear what she was saying. "You… you got through… through that…"

He swallowed, realizing immediately what she meant. His scar… the one that represented just one of the painful memories he carried of those long months held prisoner in that camp. The image of Nuzo's emergency first aid on the dirt floor of the camp rushed through his mind in a painful jumble of memories.

"We'll… we'll get through this," Higgy continued. She was still staring at his scar, and his breath caught as he realized her pain-addled mind had latched onto the idea that he had survived being a prisoner of war. He watched her eyes flicker up to his face and then back down to the evidence he still bore of what had happened in the Korengal.

"You got… you got through that," she whispered again. Her hand shifted upward, and she winced, but then her fingertips lightly brushed his scar. "We can do this." She sounded so determined, even past the pain clouding her voice.

He moved the shirt he was holding against her again, trying to keep the pressure steady, and grimaced when she whimpered at the movement. "You're right, Higgy," he said encouragingly. As much as the memories were still so painful, he realized she was right. "I did. But you know what? The guys made it through with me. We survived _together. _And you and I are gonna survive this together. You got that?"

Swallowing, she nodded slowly, and he risked moving a hand to brush her hair from her face.

"Just… just hold on. You can do this, girl."

Sounds of gunfire from somewhere nearby interrupted them and yanked Magnum's head up to face the door. Even as he kept holding his ruined shirt in place, he was trying to decide what was going on and plan his best move if something went badly. His eyes flicked to the knife lying on the floor next to him then back to the door.

"Magnum…" She'd heard it too.

"Shh, it's okay." He clenched his jaw and tried to listen for more sounds that would tell him what was happening.

Her hand shifted as if trying to grab for the weapon, and Magnum again chanced taking one hand from her stomach, this time to grab hers gently.

"Hey, I got it," he told her. "Just lie still."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but then she coughed again and lay back, the expression on her face telling just how exhausted she was.

There were footsteps outside the door then, the sound of someone in the hallway, and Magnum tensed. He didn't want to let go of Higgy, but he was going to have to if it came to it…

And then the door flew open, and Magnum reached for the knife—just as the figures barreling into the room with guns drawn registered with him. He felt the relief rush through him as T.C. and Rick appeared, just ahead of Katsumoto.

All three men took in the scene in front of them with a grim set to their faces, and their attention seemed to simultaneously land on their two injured figures huddled on the floor.

Their exclamations mixed together as Rick rushed to take over holding pressure on Higgins, ripping off his own shirt to replace the bloody mess of Magnum's while T.C. put a hand on Magnum's shoulder.

"Hey, Thomas, come on. Let me take a look at you." He gently but firmly pulled on his friend's arm, leading him a few feet away and helping him lie back against the floor. His face as he surveyed Magnum's condition was grim and angry. "You okay?" It was a useless question, and they both knew it.

Magnum coughed as T.C. prodded at his chest, but he shook his head firmly, noticing curiously how it seemed so much heavier than a moment before. "'m fine. Higgy needs… needs help."

"Yeah, we know," T.C. replied. "Rick's got her; don't worry."

"Medevac's two minutes out," Katsumoto announced, coming over to join T.C. next to Magnum. He looked down at the injured man, and there was a furious set to his jaw as he took in the entire scene and seemed to realize what had gone down while they'd been looking for Higgins and Magnum. He glanced over at where Rick was still leaning over Higgins, trying to keep her awake, then back to Magnum. "Don't worry; we got the guy who took you."

"He's not hurting anyone ever again," T.C. added firmly, giving Magnum a meaningful look.

Magnum felt his eyes starting to grow heavy as the pain in what seemed like every inch of his body started to flare up. It was as if it had all hidden itself to allow him to focus on Higgy, and, now that he had permission to relax, his injuries were making up for lost time.

"Hey, come on. Open your eyes." A hand patted his cheek firmly. "Don't fall asleep on me, man."

Groaning, Magnum managed to pull his gaze back to his friend, whose face was now swimming in and out of focus. He _wanted _to do as he'd been told, but it was just so _hard._

And then T.C. was doing something to him again and Magnum growled as white-hot fire danced up his spine. He couldn't breathe… couldn't think… He grasped for something to pull himself back to reality as he spiraled downward, and then the image of Higgins sprang to mind. Higgins lying on the floor, her eyes fixed on evidence of his having survived hell once before… "Hig—" he tried before a choked cry of pain interrupted him.

Wincing in sympathy, T.C. put a hand on his forehead as if gauging the other man's temperature. "Shh, lie still. We got Higgy, man. She's safe; you're safe."

Magnum swallowed as he allowed T.C.'s words to sink in. Their friends had found them, the criminals were taken care of, and the paramedics were on their way.

Higgy had been right. They _had _made it through, and they were going to be okay.

* * *

_Fin._


End file.
